Nor dare I hope his Dignity and Fire,
Who led the soul thro' Nature, and display'd
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Imagination's pleasures to its Eye;
His the blest Task, a [gloomier] task is mine;
His were the Smiles of Fortune, mine her Frowns;
And when her Frowns and Smiles shall charm alike,
At that dread Hour when the officious Friend,
Stammering his Idiot-Comfort, soothes amiss,
May Joys he painted dart upon the Soul,